


A Chink in the Armor

by DreamingInReality



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingInReality/pseuds/DreamingInReality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prologue to my newest fanfiction: A Chink in the Armor. You might wonder why I've tagged Transformers in it, but they are in it though they don't appear until way later. There are many surprises in store for this fiction and I'm not giving any of them away~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

"One day your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it's worth watching." – Anonymous 

 

This story does not have a happy ending. There is no romantic carriage ride off into the sunset with your true love, no lost orphan girl who finds a family for herself or a freak who finds a place to belong. Deaths are not pleasant. Not everyone turns old and gray, surrounded by loved ones as they pass away peacefully into oblivion with a smile on their face. This is a bitter tale of reality that starts and ends with a girl who has struggled throughout her short existence and just when she thinks she's found a bit of happiness, it is painfully and ruefully torn away from her by a screaming drunk and a semi-truck.

This is my story. Who says you have to live to tell a tale?


	1. Chapter 1

"DYING?!" 

By this time, I was tearing the apartment up. My mom watched quietly from the couch as I stormed around, disappearing and reappearing in doorways with dishes and clothes in my arms. At least I was cleaning instead of punching holes in the wall out of anger. My mom was lucky she had a daughter, that's all I can say.

"I wanted to tell you, believe me I did, but I thought that you would be out of the house by the time my card was punched."

"I guess you didn't know that cancer spreads fast, huh?" I shot back sarcastically, tossing all of the clothes into a hamper. "You didn't bother to tell me after they had to transport you to the hospital?" 

"They said it was in its beginning stages. There was really no reason to tell you."  
I gave her a dumbfounded look. Did she even know how diseases worked? "What /else/ did they tell you?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at her suspiciously. I could guess what they told her and if she lied to me…

From the laundry room I could hear her let out a sigh. "They told me that I should quit smoking and seek medical help."

"Oh, you mean the same thing I've been telling you for years?!" I poked my head into the living room, my face flushed red with anger and the struggle to keep the tears back. "I have asthma for God's sake and you couldn't even quit to protect me. Now you won't stop to protect yourself. Do you want to die, is that what you want?"

She didn't say anything and that was enough of an answer I needed. "How long do you have left?" I asked, my voice quieter, softer. Her eyes filled with tears once more, but I couldn't go over there to comfort her. This was what she wanted, wasn't it?

"A month," she admitted, a sob slipping loose.

She had degenerated so quickly..? Why hadn't I noticed? 

"A month?" I repeated, my own lips starting to tremble. "I only get one more month with you?" Sensing my change in mood, she reached out her arms, gesturing for me to sit next to her. I wouldn't do it. "Did you even think for a /moment/ how this would affect me? Where am I going to go? I don't have a job to keep paying for the apartment. I'm only fifteen, mom!"

"You can take my place at the restaurant when I'm gone," she offered.

"Oh yeah, because I want to work at that dump for the rest of my life! I'd have to get a full-time job there to support the bills! That's not what I wanted to do with my life, mom! I wanted so much more!"

"I know, hun. I never planned for this, I—"

"Who plans for that kind of thing?! You should have told me! I could have worked something out… found some friends to live with or something. You just thought you could leave scot-free, huh? You don't care about how this affects me! You just can't wait to die!" 

The tears were falling freely now and I wouldn't let her say anything more to me. Without another word, I marched to my room and slammed the door shut, locking myself in there for the night. How could she do that to me? She couldn't just die. It wasn't fair…

*****************************************************************************

"Here's your coffee." 

I set the mug gently down on the saucer sitting next to my mom before retreating back into the kitchen to start breakfast. It looked like she had ended up sleeping on the couch last night, but I wasn't entirely sure.

"Thanks, hun," she replied quietly, sitting up to take a sip. We didn't say anything more to each other after that. She sat staring at the ceiling while I was busy in the kitchen frying up some eggs and toast.

"I quit my job," my mom said aloud after a while. I came out of the kitchen carrying two plates and a cup of orange juice and set them on the table, taking a seat next to her.

"Yeah? I wouldn't want to work either if I knew I was going to die," I remarked bitterly. She shot me a look, but I ignored it. "Let me guess, you dropped my name so I could start working there immediately?"

"No. What you do with your life is up to you."

"Gee, thanks. It's kind of hard to decide without an adult figure in my life."

"Mirabelle…"

The cup of orange juice trembled in my hands before falling to the rugged carpet floor. "It's not fair!" I suddenly shouted, my words getting caught up in the sobs that now broke free from my heart. "How c-could you just l-leave me like this?" Part of me wanted to crush that cup in my hands, but my mom's arms pulling me to her chest prevented that. I buried my tear-stained face in the depths of her robes, my entire frame shaking heavily.

"Don't leave m-m-me, mom…"

"Oh honey," she cooed, running her gnarled fingers through my tangled mess of hair. 

"Everyone has to go at one point or another. The Lord is calling my name now."

What a load of shit. "How… H-How could you just… just /g-give up/ that easily?!" I shouted, looking up at her.

"I wouldn't have been able to escape my situation anyway, sweetheart," she reminded me, pushing my frayed hair out of the way. "I don't have the money for treatment and you can't stop cancer…"

"It doesn't matter…" I argued in a childish manner. "You're s-supposed to live f-forever…"

"Now you know that's not true. Even you won't live forever."

Thanks for making me feel better, mom. "I'm n-not ready to l-let you go…"

"Aw sweetie, I had a good run," she said, pressing her lips to my forehead. "It wasn't the life I had planned for, but when you entered my world, it made it all worthwhile." I choked up at her words. Never before had she said anything like that; way to say it right before you die.

"Well…" I finally managed to say, sniffling and rubbing my nose free of snot. "Is… Is there anything you want to do before you—" I didn't finish the sentence, but she knew what I meant.

"Oh plenty, but you know we can't do anything without money."

"How much do we have?"

"Not enough."

I sighed, breaking free of her arms and sitting back against the couch. "I want to make your last month memorable somehow… I can take off from school. They'd understand."

"No, you need to keep getting your education, Mira. Besides, I don't want you to see me later… The doctors said it would get worse."

"I can't just leave you here alone, mom!"

"It's only for a few hours. I'll have the phone near me to call your school if anything should happen."

"But—"

"No 'buts', Mira. I won't keep you from school for an entire month."

I couldn't understand why she wanted to be alone all of a sudden. Despite growing up alone, my mom was highly dependent on me. To not want me by her side through her struggle made me suspicious, but how could I argue with her?

"Yeah, okay…" 

She smiled and patted my cheek. "That's my girl."

*************************************************************************

The weeks seemed to speed by after that which sucked when it came to watching my mother waste away quicker than she should have. I was busy from sunset to sundown making breakfast for her, going to school, coming back home to adjust where she was laying and make dinner. Homework occupied any free time I had. At night I would sleep next to my mom, holding her like she used to do with me as she sobbed into my chest or moaned as the pain set in. Between food that we so desperately needed at this point and over-the-counter pain medications to ease my mother's pain, there wasn't much left to do anything nice on her last few weeks alive. During most of that time she had quit smoking entirely, but one day, completely out of the blue, she ordered me to go and grab her a pack from the convenience store.

"Cigarettes? You aren't supposed to be smoking, mom, it'll make it worse!" 

I was amazed she made it past a day without smoking. She was on such a good streak.

"Honey, if I'm going to die, I don't want to go just lying in this godforsaken bed," she shot back, sounding irritated with me. "I need at least /one/ luxury before I go."

How could you argue with that? It was a woman's dying wish. 

"….Fine," I answered after a while, letting out a sigh as I marched into the bedroom to grab the money we hid under the mattress. I was nearly out the door when she spoke up again.

"Take your time, hun, and buy something nice for yourself."

"I don't need anything, mom, it's okay," I assured her, flashing her one of my famous innocent smiles.

"I mean it. Get a candy bar or a bottle of soda. You don't have to hurry back. I'll probably be taking a nap."

I glanced down at the money in my hands. Thirty bucks. Plenty to buy her brand of cigarettes and a little more. Maybe I'd get her something nice as my last gift to her. Yeah, my last gift… That thought brought tears to my eyes, a feeling I hadn't allowed myself to have since the night I found out about her situation. "Alright," I replied quietly, slipping out of the front door and down the hall.

Our local convenience store was down the street, right past a small Chamblin's Bookmine complete with a coffee shop, a Laundromat, and a jewelry store (a bad idea on the store owner's part as they lost more jewelry in burglaries than they made in profit). Normally I just passed them by, but something stopped me this time. Chamblin's has a large glass window allowing for people passing by to peer in and watch the news being displayed on a large box TV. It was hard to make out because of the static, but I was completely entranced by what they were talking about.

"Breaking News today as the robotic aliens associated with Sumdac Industries have yet again pulled off an amazing rescue," the news reporter began, standing in front of a bank where Chief of Police, Captain Fanzone was pushing a strange little man dressed in Robin Hood leotards into the back of a police car. "These 'Autobots', as they are called, arrived her entirely by accident, a crash-landing that has made Lake Erie one of the most popular tourist destinations of the year. Now they work in secret, disguised as regular vehicles that you and I drive every day and catching perpetrators quickly and efficiently." 

Pictures flashed onto the screen of these so-called Autobots. I had heard about them in school. All of the kids seemed to be really into those strange robots despite the fact that they were from a different planet. Maybe they thought it was just a ruse to raise their popularity and thus raise the state's money as tourism began to skyrocket. Who knew? I have to admit, though, they were marvelous. How they could change shape into something that was taller and wider than their vehicle forms was beyond my understanding. And they seemed so… human. From the videos the news center was showing, they could experience happiness, sadness, anger… the entire spectrum of human emotions. They were fascinating to say the least. 

"Thanks to Optimus Prime and his team, Detroit's crime rate has dropped more than /five percent/," the new reporter announced, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. I merely snorted. That wasn't much, especially when you consider places like where I live where the crime rate is actually spiking. Thanks, robots, for sending all of the criminals our way.

"No loitering!" came a harsh voice from beside me. The owner of the store poked his head out of the door, his frown hidden by a scruffy grey beard. He lifted up a fat finger, pointing at a white sign just below me.

"Sorry," I muttered, adjusting my hoodie as I continued my walk to the convenience store. I didn't get a candy bar or soda like my mom suggested, just the cigarettes that cost twelve dollars in total. 

Looking back now, I should have gone directly to the convenience store and back. Maybe I would have had more time…

On my way back, I nearly bumped into a man that emerged from the jewelry store. He was carrying a small velvet box in his hands, no doubt a wedding ring to place on the love of his life. I couldn't help the next words I spoke:

"You better cherish her forever."

Thoughts of my mom and dad raced through my mind. Life would have been better if he just stuck around.

The man looked a little bewildered, wondering why a young girl would speak like that to him. "I will," he replied. "Don't you worry." Surprisingly, he ruffled my hair before jogging down the alley towards the main road to grab a taxi.

I would've left, but something caught my eye in the window. In the center of a small jewelry rack was the most beautiful of lockets. It was in the shape of heart, golden in color with diamonds that bordered the edges. There were no words etched into it, making it perfect for any situation. I fell in love with it at first sight. When my eyes fell on the price, however, it ruined the good mood.

"Hey, are you going to buy anything?" the jewelry store owner asked me, poking his head out of the door in the same fashion that the book store owner did. At least he wasn't telling me to leave. 

"No," I replied solemnly. "I don't have enough money."

This man was older than the other, nearly bald with thick glasses and a wool sweater complete with plaid pants. He was the epitome of every elderly guy in TV shows. 

"What have you got your eye on?" he asked with a smile, one of the kindest I had ever seen.

"Well… I thought that locket was really pretty." I pointed at the one in the center, a smile tugging at my lips. It would be perfect to house a picture of my mom and I in it. She would have loved to see something like that in her lifetime.

"Oh yeah, that's a beauty," he said, having to squint his eyes to see it from the darkness. "I'll tell you what. I'm an old man going in retirement and I'm shutting down the shop pretty soon. Why don't you buy it with what you have," he offered.

"Oh no, I couldn't do that," I argued, shaking my head. "I have less than thirty bucks on me. That's hundreds of dollars."

"It's one trinket that I'm giving away," he replied, patting my shoulder. "Go ahead and take it."

Was this the same thing as stealing? I remembered it feeling differently…

"I—"

He wouldn't let me finish, instead disappearing into the store to grab the locket and put it into the case. As he stepped back outside, he put it in my hands before burying his own in his pockets. "I won't take it back, you here?" he said, flashing a toothless grin.

I couldn't stop myself from returning my own grin. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me and something I wouldn't ever forget in my life. "Thank you. That's very kind of you." I opened the velvet box for a moment, surprised that I would be able to actually hold one and held the locket up to see in the light. It was beautiful. My mom would love it.

-!

"I should go, it's getting late," I suddenly said, putting the locket away before giving the old man the money I had and a hug. "Thanks again! I'll treasure it forever!" With that, I put the case in my pocket and dashed home.

"Mom!" I called from the stairwell, the door slamming shut behind me from my excitement. "You'll never believe what I bought today! You're gonna love it!"

I nearly jumped up the stairs, stepping over two at a time before I got to our door and pushed it open. Her bedroom light was off, so I figured she was in the living room waiting for me.

"Mom?"

I stopped for a moment. Something didn't feel right. It was dead silent… no sound of rustling papers or cars driving on the sheet. The lighting in the living room seemed askew. A sharp pain in my gut told me not to continue, to just turn around and leave the way I came. Why would I want to do that? My mom just /had/ to see this locket.

Ignoring the feelings of dread, I stepped around the corner into the living room and threw up on the floor moments later.

The first thing I noticed were the dark spots of blood splattered against the wall, couch, and lamp. It was then that the stench of that bodily fluid reached my nose, making me gag and cover the bottom half of my face with my hoodie. The further I stepped into the room, the worse the scenario became. On the floor was a puddle of blood and pieces of what I could only guess were parts of someone's brain… my mom's brain. She lay beside the puddle, her face covered by her greying hair and a gun still partly in her mouth. All I could do was stare in horror at what lay before me. No, this couldn't be happening… It was just a nightmare! I'd wake up soon, that's it.

It was far too real to be a nightmare.

I couldn't take my eyes off of my mom's limp form. Scanning the area, I didn't see any sign of a note. She had planned this all along, hadn't she? Was the pain so bad that she opted for the quick way out? Why didn't she tell me or at least leave a note?!

Oh no, there it was… that familiar feeling again. The walls started to close around me, my vision darkening as I realized that I hadn't been breathing for over a minute now. My throat had started to close and with the lack of air, I was losing consciousness. I fumbled around in my coat pocket, pulling out the inhaler and sucking greedily at the fresh air inside. My thoughts were racing, my body shaking uncontrollably with the grief, anger and fear that was welling up inside of me. She left me. She left me. She left me. My heart pounded against my chest in a rhythm so fast it felt like one continuous heartbeat. I couldn't stay there. I couldn't handle the amount of pain I felt in that moment. So, I did what my mother did sixteen years ago: I ran away.

The neighbors jumped out of the way as I dashed through the hallways, my tears falling to the tiled floor below before bursting through the front entrance. No one had even noticed my mother's fate… no policemen were there to investigate. 'Would they even investigate?' I wondered to myself. My lungs were on fire, but I continued to run, using my inhaler to collect at least a little bit of air. The farther I distanced myself away from that place, the more it would feel like a dream… like I was experiencing life for the first time. I had never been farther away from home than my school which I just passed. All of the buildings, the trees, the people, the cars… they blurred into one giant blob of black. I greeted the darkness like an old friend, letting it shroud me as I pushed myself to go further past the buildings and parks and straight into the woods surrounding Lake Erie. I collapsed to the ground when I was far enough into the woods, gripping the dewy grass between my fingers and panting heavily as my lungs worked overtime adjusting to all of the chaos inside of me. It was only then that I let my physical and emotional pain meld into one, fresh tears surfacing and spilling over to splash against the ground. I heaved with sobs, crying out to the night sky in anguish.

I was alone in the world now. Completely and irrevocably alone.


	3. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 of my newest fanfiction. I'll be sure to have Chapter 2 up later tonight or tomorrow~ Like I said before, the Transformers are involved, they just come in a little bit later. c:

If you think this story starts off on a better note, you're wrong. What kind of life do you really expect when a drug addict and a runaway get together and reproduce? It's an age-old story here in the streets: a man with glossy red eyes promises a girl the world; he treats her like a woman, holds her like she's never been held before, but when that belly gets big and reality sets in, the last thing she sees in the door slammed in her face. Now that girl is all alone in the world with nothing but tips from a shabby restaurant to support her and that deadbeat's spitting image bundled up in her arms. 

So my life was fucked up from the beginning. It didn't help that I was born with asthma due to my mom's chain-smoking problem and the terrible ventilation in the apartment. Without the money to pay for hospital bills, I was forced to share an inhaler that belonged to my neighbor down the hall. We went days without food sometimes and my mom had me stand at the corner of the road with a sign asking for money. Most of that money went to cigarettes, so it turned into an all-day job to make up for the loss. When the water didn't work, we ran outside in our bathing suits to take a bath. Winters were spent bundled up in ragged blankets and huddled near a trash can fire while summers were spent arguing over who would sleep in the cold bathtub that at night. Shooting and burglaries were common in our neighborhood and it was during those times that my mom would hide me in the vents and barricade the doors. If there was one thing in my previous life that I was thankful for, it was her. She was a mess and failed to do something to repair our broken lives, but she truly loved me. As much as I loved her, she could never replace the hole in my heart that only a father would be able to fill. I had no dad to chase away the monsters at night, to teach me to grow a backbone, or for me to make him proud. It was only when I was older, filled with all of the constant warning lectures my mom gave me, that I distrusted the male gender wholeheartedly.

Life wasn't all bad, though. I was a child and had the curiosity and naivety of one to find happiness wherever I went. Days were spent playing wall-ball in the back alley and digging through dumpsters to invent other toys that I could busy myself with. I made friends with stray dogs and other kids like me with dirty faces and crooked teeth. And when it was raining or dark and playing outside wasn't an option, I found comfort in the vents, hiding my collection of bottle caps and dust bunnies in the darkest corner and spending hours just polishing them up or drawing or just exploring. Thievery became a hobby for me because I could get to any room from that vent system and I just snuck in and took what looked appealing. My collection is probably still huddled in those vents if they haven't torn the building down. Mom couldn't buy books, but with her imagination we didn't need any. She had a wonderful mind filled with so many hopes and dreams. Too bad they were only stories for her.

I'm not telling you this story for you to feel pity for me. If you do, I have the right to spit in your face. We were poor and our lives were shit, but we were not pitiful. That life made us strong and independent. I can't say the same for Paris Hilton or any of those other rich people who can't go a day without spending a thousand bucks and primping those rat dogs of theirs. And I'm not going to bore you with further details of my early childhood. Those were days governed by dreams before my life began to unravel. No, I'm sure you want me to get to the juicy part… my death, right? The events that inevitably led up to that happened only a month before my sixteenth birthday and started with the most dreadful of revealed secrets…

"Mom, I'm home!" I called from the doorway, dropping my backpack to the floor and slipping off my shoes before stepping inside. Thunder boomed menacingly behind me as I made my way into the tiny bathroom my mom and I shared and wrung out my black hair in the sink. "I got an A on my Algebra II test," I added excitedly, running the brush through the tangled heap on my head and tossing it down before moving to the bedroom to change my clothes. That was odd; there was no answer from her. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Five-thirty. She didn't have a shift until six-thirty. 

"Mom?" I called out again, popping into the living room with a pair of sweatpants and a tank top on.

She was sitting in her favorite chair, a cup of coffee on the small table beside her and a newspaper in her lap, but she wasn't reading in. Her eyes were distant, glazed-over as if she were mentally nonexistent. I could feel my heart drop a bit, thinking she was on drugs again. Usually when she was stressed, she would buy Xanax off of the streets and take enough to make her feel good, though they made her hallucinate, too. It scared me the way her eyes would widen to the point they nearly bulged out of her head and how she would yell at no one in particular (to her, it was either my dad or a doctor) and then weep. However, my presence in the room seemed to bring her back to reality.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" She wrung her hands nervously, a trait we both shared when put into situations we weren't comfortable with.

"I said I got an A on my Algebra II test," I repeated, slowly crossing the room to sit on our tattered couch. 

"That's great, hun," she replied halfheartedly, shooting me a small smile. Most of the time she was ecstatic when I was doing good in school, so why wasn't she this time? Something had to be wrong.

"Are you okay?" I asked, tentative to hear the answer. "You look a bit distracted. Did something happen with work?" If she got fired, my future was over.

"No, nothing happened at work," she assured me, picking up her coffee with a shaky hand and spilling it all over her front.

"Oh mom…" I said, immediately jumping up to grab the mug. When she refused to give it to me, I ran to the kitchen to grab some paper towels, only to find her sobbing when I got back. "It's okay," I assured her, laughing nervously as I bent down to clean her off. "It's just a little spill, nothing we can't fix." She tried her best to shoo me away, a waterfall of tears streaming down her wrinkled face. With all of the fuss, I eventually conceded and just took the mug from her, setting it on the table and bringing her into my arms. "Shh, it's okay, mom. What's wrong?" I tucked a strand of her graying hair behind an ear as she cried into my shoulder, rocking back and forth. It took a long time before she found the courage to speak to me again.

"D-Do you remember that… that l-lesson I taught you?" she questioned, unable to look straight up at me. I waited for her to continue, but it seemed like she was trying to test me on all of the lectures she had ever given me.

"Mom, we could write a book of the lessons you taught me," I remarked in a light tone, grinning down at her. "You're going to have to be more specific."

She wiped furiously at her eyes and choked on her next words. "Th-The lesson about n-never keeping secrets be-… because it w-would only h-have bad consequences?" she reminded me, her face now blotchy from all of the crying and fussing with her face.

Oh, that lesson. I didn't abide by that very well as my secret collection in the vents would say. I half-wondered if she found out about that. "I remember that lesson," I said, helping to wipe away her tears. "… What about it?"

The tears stopped suddenly and she pulled away from me as if remembering that she was the adult and I was just the child. "Mirabelle," she addressed me, using my full first name instead of the nickname she was so fond of calling me. I felt a chill crawl down my spine and immediately began wringing my own hands together. She caught sight of that, seeming partly amused, though the sorrow in her seemed to drown out what little happiness she could sum up. "I've been keeping a secret from you for a very long time…"

"How long…?" I asked, backing away from her. What could she have possibly kept from me? More importantly, why?

"A year now," she muttered. I could see her refraining from reaching out for me.

"A year?" I repeated, my voice raising an octave. I was appalled, my fury rising as a sense of betrayal began to set in… betrayal by the one person I loved. "What /secret/ have you been keeping from me?" She tried to grab my hand, but I kept it out of reach. Her blue eyes met mine and for the first time I felt like a stranger in my own home… different from my mom in every way right down to the brown eyes that were reflected off of hers.

"Mirabelle, I'm…."


End file.
